


Down All The Days

by spacemonkey



Category: U2
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Bono looked at him, really looked at him in such a way when he thought Edge couldn’t see him. Set during the early days, and onwards</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a short, angsty little ditty. It's turned into something much bigger. I'm posting part one now because I'm not sure when I'll have time in the next week for part two and I want it out there otherwise I might just procrastinate over it. I don't own any of these people, and any mistakes are my own

It was mid-afternoon when Bono rushed into the hotel room, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes as wide as saucers. “A man just offered to have sex with me,” he blurted. There was a silence as they just looked at him, and then Adam began to laugh.

Edge listened to them carry on, about Bono’s fur coat, about how things were different here, and Bono flopped down on the couch next to him. The coat soon came off; damp from the snow it had been covered with. Edge couldn’t tear his eyes from it, and he wasn’t sure why. He dreamed of Bono that night, of him clad in black and cheeks red for a reason other than the chill in the air. He dreamed of blue eyes and kissing and it felt completely normal until he awoke. Bono was asleep in the other bed, his back turned to Edge, and Edge watched the rise and fall of his body with lethargic curiosity. He soon woke up completely and his mind began to race.

Bono woke late, with Edge already showered and on his second cup of coffee. He was bleary eyed, but he smiled at Edge after a stifled yawn.  Edge smiled back, hoping Bono didn’t notice how forced it was.

He dreamed of Bono again that night, and it terrified him.

***

Sometimes Bono looked at him, really looked at him in such a way when he thought Edge couldn’t see him. It was sadness, and Edge didn’t know why. He wasn’t sure if he should ask, wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer, because there were other times when Bono gave him a different look, his eyes shining in such a way that Edge was sure his heart might burst. 

“Edge,” Bono would start, late at night when it was just the two of them, and Edge would change the subject. He’d bring up Ali or Aislinn, bring up their future, their past, anything other than what could be talked about, until Bono would deflate. They’d go to bed, and Edge would face the wall, knowing that Bono was behind him with that look on his face.

On the next leg, Bono chose to room with Larry. They never discussed why, but soon enough things felt almost normal and Edge could very nearly push the whole thing from his mind. Still, when Bono chose Adam as his best man, Edge thought it was probably for the best; he wanted to rage, all the same.

***

He could not really remember officially proposing to Aislinn, but somewhere along the way he must have; perhaps they had come to a mutual understanding, and it _was_ something he wanted terribly. It ended up being a question of when, and after Bono and Ali, the question came more and more frequent. Aislinn eventually ended up just picking a date and telling him and it was close, so close but Edge felt a weight leave his shoulders from that point on.

He didn’t want a bachelor party, but somehow they all ended up down at the local. Bono raised a glass to his right, and then another, and soon enough it was well into the next day. They were down to a group of four, and they’d ended up in a small park. Adam and Gavin had found the playground and Edge could barely see them a little down the ways.  It was dark, only a few streetlights surrounding the park, and Edge had found a bench closest to the road. He had thought Bono would leave him there alone, go off and play stupid with the other two, but he sat down next to Edge. Bono was quiet now, flicking a lighter between his fingers. Edge watched as his face briefly came illuminated, and then went dark. He wasn’t even sure why Bono had a lighter, and he wanted to ask, but the flame flickered once more and he caught Bono’s expression.

“You’re getting married today,” Bono said, so seriously that Edge wondered what had happened to the Bono that had stumbled down the road not fifteen minutes ago.

“Yeah.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A bit, yeah.”

Bono flicked his lighter one last time and then pocketed it. “Why?” Edge just shrugged. He didn’t have much of an answer. Bono looked at him. “It’ll pass. It’s – you’re starting a new life together, that’s huge. But I wasn’t nervous, you know. With Ali? I wasn’t nervous.”

Bono looked sullen in the dim light, his gaze returning to the ground in front of him. “I love her,” Edge said.

“I know that.”

“We’ll be happy together.”

Bono nodded. “I know that too.” His hands went deeper into his pockets and Edge wanted to say more, but he could hear footsteps growing closer and soon they were on their way. They trailed behind Adam and Gavin, and Edge hoped that they were headed home now.

 Bono was silent next to him, his feet shuffling on the pavement. Then he stopped. Edge took a few steps back and stood next to him, glancing ahead at Adam and Gavin’s retreating forms.  “Bono?”

The hands came out of his pockets and then Bono was hugging Edge, arms flung tightly around his neck. Edge stood there dumbly for a moment, and then slowly brought his hands up and hugged Bono back. He pulled away first and Bono had a look on his face like he wanted to say something. Edge smiled tight and pulled at his arm. “Come on, it’s late.” Bono just nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets.

Edge found his bed cold when he climbed in, and he tossed and turned and finally fell asleep, but it wasn’t near enough. Still, when he finally saw Aislinn later that day, he couldn’t stop smiling.

***

Bono could be a fun drunk; he was loud and loving and wittier than anyone had any right to be when they were soused. He leapt onto table tops to sing to anyone who cared to listen, and he could turn in the blink of an eye if anyone fucked with him. Edge remembered Adam saying he was like a vicious Chihuahua after one disaster night early on, and the image had stuck with Edge through all the years. Sometimes, it came suddenly and without the assistance of booze, and as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. He thought that maybe some might be put off if they were in his shoes, but not Edge.

Bono fascinated him.

He’d asked him once about his mother, early on when it had only been a couple of years. Bono had shrugged and that had been the end of it. Later, much later, Bono told Edge that there wasn’t much to tell. A few drinks more, and he said that he could barely remember her at all.

It took Edge a long while to fully believe that, but once he did, the pieces fell into place and he felt like he had cracked the enigma that was Bono. At the time, though, he’d just handed Bono another drink and changed the subject. Bono had smiled at him, and a few minutes later they’d been singing Bowie.

Now, Bono was not speaking at all, and Edge was partly glad, because he’d heard enough yelling for one night. He wasn’t even sure why Bono was in his room; it was easy to assume that Ali had kicked him out of his own, but Edge thought maybe Adam would be more understanding of the whole situation. They did this, Ali and Bono, from time to time, and usually by the next morning they were kissing and laughing like nothing had happened.

“Do you want to go out?” Edge asked, if only to break the silence. Bono looked at him sharply, and Edge returned to his book. He could still feel Bono looking at him, and soon marked his page and set the book on the table. “I think I’m going to turn in, it’s getting late.”

“Fine.”

“Are you-” Edge sighed when he saw Bono was still looking at him in that way. “Goodnight, Bono.”

He’d been going to ask if Bono was going to stay, if Bono was alright on the couch. It had been years since they’d shared a bed, and sometimes after a big night when they were drunk and bone tired he’d think maybe he could fall in with Bono and share, but he’d always stopped himself. It just, it never seemed like a good idea, not like it had once been when they were flat broke and the rooms were like ice.

He decided to have a shower before bed, brushed his teeth and emerged not entirely sure what to expect. But the light in the other room was still on, the television droning, and Edge found his bed cold and empty. He shut the door and climbed into bed. He’d been tired, and they had a show the next day, but his mind was thrumming and he tossed and turned and almost missed the door opening.

Bono climbed under the covers without an invitation, his cold toes brushing against Edge’s leg. Edge kept his eyes shut, and he waited. “Edge? Edge.” A hand snaked up his arm and Edge let out a sigh and looked at him.

 “What are you doing?”

The light from the other room was still on, and Edge could easily make out the bothered look on Bono’s face. He bit his lip and the hand resting on Edge’s arm started to trail downwards past his ribs. “What are you doing?” Edge asked again.

“Edge. Please, I-”

Edge jerked his body away and sat up. “No, go to _sleep_ , Bono.” He climbed out of the other side of the bed without another word and went to have a glass of water. The television was still on but the sound was turned all the way down, and Edge watched a show he didn’t recognize for a couple of minutes before flicking the set off completely. He rinsed his glass out in the sink and turned off the light before returning to the bedroom. Bono was still in the bed, curled up tight to one side and with the light off, Edge could barely see him.

He could hear him though, once he was under the covers as well, and Bono was breathing deep, controlled breaths that Edge didn’t believe for a second.  He couldn’t help himself, and reached out a hand until he found Bono’s shoulder. Bono started and Edge almost pulled away. “Bono?” He didn’t get a response, didn’t expect one, but he could feel the slight tremble of Bono’s body and it cut right through him. “It’s alright, Bono, come on.”

Bono eventually unravelled and Edge found himself with a warm body pressed into him. He thought of Aislinn and his two little girls back home, and brought an arm around Bono. “Go to sleep,” he said softly and Bono nodded.

He awoke the next morning and found Bono on his side next to him, hair in his face and one hand flung towards Edge. He considered staying there for a while; perhaps falling back to sleep, perhaps grabbing that hand and pulling it closer still, and it was that thought that dragged him out of bed and into the bathroom. He turned on the shower as hot as he could bear and let the water beat down onto his skin. He washed his hair, his body, and when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he reached down and started to stroke himself.

The bed was empty when he stepped out of the bathroom, and Edge wondered if Bono had heard him, or if he’d left before. He spent some time reading his book, and then went and joined the others for a late breakfast after Larry phoned. Bono and Ali spent half of the meal whispering to each other, giggling and holding hands like they were on their honeymoon and Edge waited the entire day for Bono to say something, anything about the night before, but it was all business as usual. He considered bringing it up himself, but thought better of it when he saw Bono after the show. He was laughing, he was happy, and Edge wanted so badly to keep it that way. He kept his mouth shut.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was only meant to have two chapters. But life, uh, finds a way. Now it has three. I hope to god it doesn't end up with four. Oh, it's angsty

Edge found himself sometimes - usually late at night when his mind was going and going – wondering what the definition of normal was exactly, and if they could class themselves as such after all this time. Occasionally, he thought the same for Larry and Adam, and he knew that out of the four of them, Larry might be the closest to normal, but mostly he was focused on Bono and himself. He wondered if there were others out there like them, who carried on like life was normal and never mentioned what they both had to be thinking. Bono did dart around like everything was normal though, like a few months earlier he hadn’t begged Edge from the other side of the bed. Edge had no choice but to follow his lead, and ignore the occasional look that was still sent his way.

Sometimes, Edge caught himself considering what he would do if Bono asked him outright. It always started with him knowing that he would be strong; he would say no, and that would be that, but as the thought went on and the night grew closer to day, he’d start to falter.  And then one of the girls would wake in the distance, or Aislinn would stir next to him, and he’d hate himself for even considering such a thing.

***

Bono had left a chair by the window and Edge took full advantage of it, perching an ashtray on the window sill. Edge always thought of Berlin as beautiful, but looking out of the opened window all he could see was grey skies and scattered people all dressed the same. It was still early though, and he knew that in an hour or so the streets would be full and the sun might be out. He took a final drag of his cigarette and then stubbed it into the ashtray.

A door shut quietly behind him and before he could turn, Bono had wrapped his arms around Edge’s neck.  His damp hair brushed Edge’s cheek and Edge breathed in deeply.

“Would you like coffee?” Bono asked, his voice still gravelly from the late night and early wake up call. Edge nodded. “Alright.” Bono stayed where he was though, and Edge reached a hand up and gripped at his wrist. Edge felt the smile against his skin and then Bono was gone. Edge considered having another cigarette, but the smell of Bono’s aftershave lingered and he thought better of it. He shut the window and went to join Bono in the kitchen.

The house was smaller than what Bono usually associated himself with, but Bono didn’t seem to mind. It was bigger than the hotel room Edge was sleeping in, and Edge had considered going to rental route, but he couldn’t stand the thought of empty rooms not being slept in. Not now.

They sat at the kitchen table, mugs in hand. The wall clock above Bono’s head read just before seven, and Edge wondered when the two of them had last been up together so early, without being up all night drinking or playing. He wondered when Bono had last made him a cup of coffee, and that one he couldn’t remember.

“Are you going to go home?” Bono asked suddenly.

“Go where? I don’t-” Edge took a deep breath. “No.”

Bono rubbed at his eye and set his mug down. He looked drained, like he could sleep for a month, and it was like looking into a mirror. “What can I do, Edge?” Edge didn’t have an answer.  Bono didn’t seem to mind. They finished their coffee in silence, and then Bono collected their mugs and put them in the sink. “Come on.”

Edge followed Bono past the bathroom and into the bedroom. The bed was still unmade, and Bono pulled the covers back further and looked at Edge until Edge climbed in under them. “Try to sleep,” he said earnestly.  “It will help.” Edge sincerely doubted that, but he nodded anyway. Bono smiled. He took a step back, to leave, and Edge reached out and snagged his arm. “What?”

“Can you-” Edge let go of Bono’s arm and shook his head.

“Edge.”

“Don’t worry.”

Bono looked like a deer in headlights, and Edge was sure he was going to back away and leave him, and Edge actually wanted him to; it was a stupid thing to ask, it was a stupid thing to even think. But then Bono was walking around the other side of the bed and pulling the covers back. He settled in with a sigh and shuffled until he found a comfortable position. Edge was keenly aware that he was lying on Bono’s side. He didn’t dare suggest that they swap.

Bono shifted again until he was on his side facing Edge. His eyes were bloodshot and hooded, but a tired smile graced his face. “You need to take better care of yourself,” Edge said.

“What?” Bono laughed, sounding surprised. “Edge, don’t worry about me right now, I’m fine.”

Edge reached out a hand in response and ran a finger under Bono’s eye. “Could lose a finger in those bags.”  He let his hand drop onto the bed next to Bono’s head.

Bono laughed again, but it was short.  “Don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t help it.”

Bono’s face turned serious, and Edge wanted to reach out again and touch his face, his chest, anything to make the noise in his head stop. But he pulled his hand back, and Bono said, “Go to sleep, Edge.”

The room fell silent after that, and he tried, God knows he tried to sleep, but he couldn’t make it happen. His mind was in shambles over her, and his entire surroundings smelled of Bono. Bono, who did sleep, soundly as if he had been deprived of it for weeks. It wasn’t far from the truth. Edge watched him for a while, and wanted badly to reach out and push the hair from his face. In the end, he did just that. Bono didn’t stir, and Edge rolled over and faced the other wall. He felt guilt, so much guilt that he thought he might cry.

The room was brighter and Edge blinked sluggishly. His body felt warm, his eyes heavy and the clock on the nightstand told him it was just after two. He rolled over to find Bono flat on his back, snoring, and he had to smile. He forced himself out of bed and into the shower, then wrapped a towel around his waist and went and sat by the window again.  He smoked a cigarette, then put on yesterday’s jeans and one of Bono’s shirts and headed to the studio.

He stayed with Bono for a couple of weeks, spending his nights in the spare room near the front door that smelled of clean linen, and spent his mornings by the window with Bono pretending like he wasn’t watching him. Edge was reminded of early on, when Larry would be home sick and Bono was his constant shadow.

“What are you going to do when you have to go home?” Bono asked one night after a long session in the studio, his shoulders slumped and his voice a hoarse whisper.

Edge knew he meant Ireland and he shrugged. “Adam said I could stay with him for a while.”

Bono nodded, and was silent for a while. “I’m sure Ali would be fine with you being at ours, if you wanted.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t be in the way, Edge, it would be fine.”

“ _No,_ Bono,” Edge snapped. “I couldn’t do that.” Bono looked down at the table, biting his thumbnail. Edge cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s just, it would be easier at Adam’s, you know?” Bono didn’t respond, and Edge went from feeling guilty to being frustrated. He reached out and pulled Bono’s hand from his mouth. Bono looked at him, taken aback, and then looked at the hand around his wrist.

Then he sighed and brought his other hand up to clasp Edge’s hand, still wrapped around his wrist. Edge let himself be pulled closer, but said, “Bono, don’t.” Bono ignored him completely, his hands trembling, and Edge couldn’t help the quiet groan that left his throat when Bono gently brushed his lips against bare knuckles. His eyes flickered up quickly, taking in Edge’s reaction, and then he licked his lips and kissed Edge’s fingertips. “Bono.”

“Don’t ask me to stop,” Bono said hoarsely. Edge didn’t; he couldn’t. Instead, he gently pulled his hand out from between Bono’s.  Bono just looked at him, his eyes shining, and then he stood up and left the room.  Edge sat at the table, breathing deeply. He considered walking out the front door, considered locking himself in his own room, and finally stood up and walked into Bono’s room.

Bono was sitting on the side of the bed, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Edge sat down next to him, not entirely sure what else to do. “I’m an idiot,” Bono said after a prolonged silence, his voice still strained.

“No.” Bono let his hands drop, and he shook his head. His face was pale and Edge couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so frustrated.  “Bono, you’re married.”

“I fucking know that,” he snapped, and then his face fell. “I just, it’s so fucking hard sometimes, you know?”

“I know. Bono-”

“Am I crazy, Edge,” Bono continued. “Am I?” Edge shook his head slowly and Bono pursed his lips. He leaned in like he wanted to kiss Edge or hug him, but did neither.

“I couldn’t do that to Ali,” Edge said quietly. “And I know you couldn’t either.”  Bono nodded, and then leaned in until Edge wrapped an arm around his shoulder.  He didn’t say much after that, but the next morning he seemed tired. Edge didn’t bring it up again; he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to say no again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to have finished this. It's been on my mind for days. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine

Things moved slowly, agonizingly so, and Edge had doubt, so much doubt. But then, a breakthrough, and before he knew it, they were heading towards a tour. It left Edge wondering where the time had gone; how had it been that long since his marriage had ended? Since Bono had-

Since Bono. But it had been a time, and Bono had been almost back to normal, if a bit subdued. Edge had worried, in those first few days, that they were done. Then in the weeks after, he’d worried that the band was going to follow, and he’d be left with nothing.

They had made it through, and Bono could sit close and they could talk and hug and it was all fine, unless you looked under the surface. Edge tried to avoid it.

Bono had big ideas for the tour, and those ideas were a distraction for a time. Larry had big concerns for the price of the tour, and Edge wondered if it was all going to end with them declaring bankruptcy. But when Larry brought up any concerns, Edge found himself supporting Bono at every turn.

Bono came to him one night, his hair as dark as ink. He looked over his sunglasses at Edge, and gave a grin. “What do you think?”

Edge had been dozing in front of the television, and it took him a moment to figure out what Bono was asking. Then he took it all in, the hair, the glasses, the leather pants, and remarked, “You look like a twat.”

Bono just laughed, and eventually Edge got used to it. It was a different Bono, and it was something he had trouble glancing away from.

***

They had ended up in a bar, some seedy little place that seemed to fit the mood, and it was so different from the bright lights of the clubs that they had become so used to, with the horde of people wanting to talk and touch and see. They had started off in a place like that, and moved on and on until Adam had suggested a place closer to the outskirts of town where he’d visited maybe four years earlier.  Where he’d once come to have a bit of privacy.

Edge was at the point where he was having trouble recalling exactly what city they were in, and that was never a good sign so early on in the tour. He wasn’t even that drunk, really.

 Oakland. Bono had said it during the concert, thanked the city, but that had been a few hours and a few drinks ago, and all Edge could really remember was the way Bono had thrown his arms around Edge’s shoulders. He’d sang in his ear so closely that his lips had almost grazed, and the feral grin that he gave afterwards had nearly caused Edge to miss a note. Bono was watching him now; Edge didn’t have to look to know it - could feel the hairs prickle on the back of his neck – but he did anyway. He’d expected a drunken smile perhaps, but Bono was as steady as he was serious, his gaze unwavering even when their eyes locked.  Edge looked away, back to Adam, to Larry, to the near empty bar. No one cared who they were there, not even with Bono still clad in his concert outfit. He was surprised. It was closing in on three am, but they were in California.

They ordered another round, and then another and one more, and Edge ignored the pressing feeling in his bladder until he couldn’t anymore. He got up and made his way to the bathroom, not noticing Bono trailing behind him until they were nearly at the door.  There was another man inside, and Edge chose the urinal closest to the door to give him some privacy. He unzipped and jumped when a hand snaked over his shoulder from behind. There was a sigh and then Bono sagged against him. “Bono?”

“Mm?”

Bono was hot against his back, smelling of sweat and faded cologne, but the leather was cool against Edge’s neck. “Do you, do you need to go?”

“Perhaps,” Bono said slowly, but didn’t make a move otherwise. Edge wasn’t sure what was happening exactly, if Bono was into it or if he was just drunk, but he couldn’t hold it any longer and went, with Bono now breathing in his ear.  He saw the other man out the corner of his eye, saw the look he gave the two of them on his way out, and Edge felt his face flush, hoping he didn’t recognize them. And then they were alone, and Bono was stepping away from him and towards the door. He heard the lock fall into place, and he swallowed, flushed and went to wash his hands. He dried his hands then turned to face Bono.

Bono was drunk, the whites of his eyes streaked red, and his mouth was set in a line. “Bono?” Edge felt like he was shouting, the noise in his head growing louder by the second, and then Bono was leaning into him, arms going around his neck. His hair tickled Edge’s cheek and Edge turned towards it. “Bono?”

“It’s alright, really,” Bono murmured. Edge’s skin prickled; Bono clung to him almost desperately, and Edge couldn’t help it, he pulled him closer still. There was a puff of breath on his jaw, and then the press of dry lips. “Alright, Edge?”

Edge had him up against the sink before he could even think about it, and Bono was crying out, the tap digging into his hip. He pushed harder, and then he was kissing Bono, messy and wet and Bono’s hands were scrambling at his shoulders, his chest. Their teeth bumped together and Edge pulled away, turned his head and found Bono’s neck. His skin was salt against Edge’s tongue, Bono making soft little noises in the back of his throat that turned into an outright moan when Edge reached down to yank Bono’s shirt from his pants. His fingers found the soft skin of Bono’s stomach, and he turned into Bono’s shoulder, trailed his hand down until he found the zipper, and then eased it down. He tugged at Bono’s pants until they were mid-thigh, underwear going with them, and his hand found hard flesh. Bono’s head hit the wall with a thud, his mouth hanging open and moaning till he was red in the face.

Distantly, he heard the door handle rattle. He moved his hand, slowly at first and then began to stroke until Bono was slick and gasping, “Fuck – fuck-“

Edge took in the look on Bono’s face, the wide eyes looking down at what Edge was doing to him, and he thought of turning him around, grabbing him by the hair and fucking him. There was a knock, and another rattle, and Edge stilled his hand. “Shit.”

“What – no, no, don’t stop,” Bono pleaded.

“Shh!” There was banging now, and some swearing and Edge looked at Bono, breathing heavily. Bono shook his head, but Edge stepped back. He half expected Bono’s legs to give out, but he stayed upright, chest heaving. He looked down at himself, then back up at Edge with such a look on his face that Edge had to look away. And then he pulled his pants up as much as he could, pushed past Edge and closed the door of the stall behind him. Edge breathed in deeply, untucked his shirt in the hope that it might hide his erection, and then went and unlocked the door. He didn’t recognize the man on the other side, didn’t care who he was, just shoved past him and ignored the angry words that followed. He left the bar, left his jacket and his group and Bono, and stumbled into the cool night air.

He was woken up a few hours later by a phone ringing, surprised to find he wasn’t too hungover, and the smell of Bono was immediate, but he knew he was alone. It was on his skin, in his hair, and he hesitated in having a shower, but there was a plane to catch and he knew he had to. Bono was silent during the flight, tucked up near the window with Larry next to him. Edge watched him until he caught Larry’s gaze. He turned his body, but knew Larry was still staring. It was a short flight, and a shorter drive to the hotel. Bono disappeared into his room immediately, and Larry turned to Edge. “What’s going on?”

It wasn’t a conversation he felt like having, especially not in the corridor of a hotel on next to no sleep, so Edge just shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”

His bed was soft, and he knew he only had a couple of hours until he was needed elsewhere, but Edge couldn’t sleep. He stared at the wall, the ceiling, and then went and sat by the window with a cigarette in his hand. He smoked far too many and was jittery when he sat down to do an interview with a sweet girl named Sarah from a magazine that Edge immediately forgot the name of. She stumbled over her words a few times and Edge tried to give her at least something to work with, but he was distracted. She smiled at the end and shook his hand, and Edge hoped that she wasn’t too disappointed in him.

***

Adam was on the phone with him almost as soon as Edge walked back into the room, suggesting dinner and drinks and to see where the night took them, and Edge pretended like he was considering it before finally telling Adam he was too tired; maybe they’d go out after the show tomorrow, maybe on their next day off. He wondered if Adam had asked Bono first.

He was tired, the ache in his body dragging him down, but his brain was well alert. He figured some room service and a hot shower before crawling into bed sounded like the best idea in the world, and he did just that. The phone rang while he was eating pasta in front of the television, and he ignored it. It rang again as he was undressing and he took the phone off the hook.

He stood idly under the shower, letting the hot water beat down onto his aching back, and stood there for longer than was probably necessary before reaching for the shampoo. He thought of Bono up against the sink, his head banging against the wall and tried to push it from his mind, but it continued until Edge started imagining what it would have been like had they not been interrupted. He had heard Bono, back early on when they shared rooms and it was so late that Bono thought Edge must have been asleep. He had heard the harsh breathing, the sound of skin against skin and the cut off groan as Bono tried not to wake him. He wondered how he sounded now when he came, how close he had been before they had stopped, and then he froze when he heard the bathroom door open.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice wavering. There was a silence, and Edge almost panicked.

“It’s me.” Bono. He sounded as weary as Edge had ever heard him, and Edge pulled back the curtain enough so he could see Bono sitting on the closed toilet lid. They looked at each other, and then Bono’s gaze lowered. “Do you need a hand with that?”

Edge looked down and flushed. He hadn’t even realized he was hard. He turned around and finished rinsing off the last of the shampoo in his hair. The water was starting to cool and he hoped that it would help. “What are you doing?”

“We need to have a discussion.”

They did, Edge knew they had to, but it wasn’t really something he was ready for. He sighed, turned off the water and reached for a towel. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped closer to Bono. “Now?”

Bono nodded. “Yes.” He had his arms crossed, and Edge noticed he was in a simple shirt and jeans. It was a sort of outfit Edge had seen Bono in hundreds of times, but it had been leather and sunglasses for months now and it was almost startling to see him out of it. Bono raised an eyebrow and Edge realized he had been staring.

“Can I get dressed first?”

Bono didn’t respond, just kept looking at him. Edge turned and left the bathroom, sure that Bono would follow him. He was wide awake now, and his heart was thumping wildly. He wasn’t sure if they were going to argue or yell or what was running through Bono’s mind.

Bono sat down on the bed and watched as Edge rummaged through his things, trying to find a clean shirt and some pants. His bag was a mess and he could almost feel Bono’s impatience in the air, but he found what he was looking for. “Edge.”

Edge glanced over. Bono was rubbing at his face, his fingers going up through his hair and when his hands dropped, he looked like he was close to tears. Edge tossed his clothes on the side table and went and sat down next to Bono. “Last night-” Edge stopped and shook his head. “Bono, I don’t know what to do.”

Bono nodded. “I love you,” he said simply. Edge stared at him and Bono smiled faintly. “You have to know how difficult this is. For me to – it’s just, you have no idea how much I love Ali.” Edge thought he had a fair idea, but he didn’t say as much; couldn’t say it. Bono was rubbing at his thighs anxiously, and then he laughed. “I can’t help it, I feel like I’m suffocating sometimes, Edge, I love you so fucking much. I need – you.”

Edge regarded him stupidly. He had no idea what to say, how to even process what Bono had just said. He thought he might vomit, but the feeling passed quickly. He swallowed and Bono looked down at the ground. “There’s nobody here but God to judge us, Edge, and I’d hope he’d have more pressing matters on his plate.” He said it quietly, like he wasn’t sure if it should be said at all, but his face was firm when he glanced back up at Edge. “Aren’t you tired of it?”

“Yes,” Edge said thickly, after a pause. Bono smiled and that was it for Edge. “Christ, Bono.”

“It’s alright.” Bono leaned into him and Edge closed his eyes. He felt Bono’s hand come up to hold his cheek, and then Bono kissed him. It was chaste, the barest pressure, and Edge breathed deeply through his nose. Bono leaned his forehead against Edge’s, and pulled at the knot of his towel until it came free. “Lay back. Slide up for me a bit.” Edge did as he was instructed, and then Bono was kneeling over him. He was still fully clothed, staring down at Edge’s naked body, and Edge started to breathe harder.  

Bono’s hand trailed down Edge’s chest to his navel, then he bent down and pressed his mouth against Edge’s hipbone, and any thought Edge had of telling Bono to stop - to hold on, they shouldn’t – left his mind completely. He spread his legs and Bono shifted over until he was kneeling between them. He stroked at the soft skin of Edge’s inner thighs, and Edge couldn’t help the groan that followed.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Bono admitted.

“It’s okay, just- I don’t care,” Edge blurted.

Bono nodded, and then there was a warm mouth where his hands had just been and Edge had to reach down and touch Bono’s thick hair.  Bono locked his left arm under Edge’s knee, his right palm splayed flat on Edge’s stomach, and he breathed hotly against Edge’s skin, if only for a moment, before taking Edge into his mouth and for the first time in what might be years, Edge felt the tension completely leave his body.

***

Bono was sitting by the window, clad only in a shirt, and there was a faraway look on his face as he stared out into the city. Edge knew there was guilt and grief in that look, and he ignored the slight tremble of Bono’s hand when he brought the cigarette back up to his mouth. The smoke left his lips, and then Bono stubbed out into the ashtray and turned to look up at Edge. “Are you alright?” Edge asked.

Bono nodded. He leaned in until his head pressed against Edge’s stomach. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it.” He smoothed back Bono’s hair and Bono breathed against his bare skin. “Come on.”

The phone was still off the hook, Edge noticed as he climbed back into bed. He considered fixing it, but then Bono was pressing up against his side. “Are you tired?” he asked.

“Mmm,” was Bono’s response. Edge rolled over, until they were face to face and Bono blinked at him. Then he smiled gently, and brought his hand up to touch Edge’s jaw. “Go to sleep, Edge,” he murmured. Edge stayed up for a while longer though, watching Bono sleep, and when he finally did close his eyes, he found he couldn’t stop smiling.


End file.
